


Girl Can't Help It

by cosmotronic



Series: Journeys [6]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Holtzbert Week, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmotronic/pseuds/cosmotronic
Summary: Once you pop...Holtzbert Week Day Six.





	Girl Can't Help It

**Author's Note:**

> Day six, the end is in sight :(
> 
> Salty Hyperbolic Parabaloids for your consumption.

 

There’s something sharp annoying her, irritating at the soft skin of her behind. She shifts and feels the tiny bite under her thigh, against her side. She shuffles her body another way; it’s roughing at her arm, now.

In her half-asleep mind the bites are ants or daggers or ugly words, a thousand papercuts come to bleed her dry from mind and body and soul.

It’s strange. There’s usually a soft warmth pressed against her these days, a tether to ease her gently back to a world of love and safety. That touch isn’t there, this time, only sharp bits and pieces harassing her and, as she slowly blinks into full consciousness, scattered across her pillow to lie brazenly an inch from her nose.

_Ugh._

Cracked little splinters of processed and cooked and salted potato, harsh grains and grit pure white in the pre-dawn.

_Fucking hell, Holtz. How many times have I told you?_

Her anger simmers gently under the boil for a time, mind too slowed and slagged by tiredness to spur the flame higher without a catalyst. Until her eyes refocus on a further point, far beyond the cloud of her pillow and the scraps of snacks.

Holtz is lying there, curled onto her side, fast asleep and lightly snoring. The sheets are pushed low about her waist and Erin can see the open Pringle tube tucked into the crook of her elbow like a lover.

The sight surges her into a tumult of temper. She rolls and stands and pulls the covers from the bed in a single flare of overwrought motion; almost hysterical, almost violent.

Holtz snorts softly and her bare leg twitches in the sudden cool exposure, but she doesn’t move.

_Fucking typical. Sleep through an apocalypse, wouldn’t you, Holtz?_

Erin huffs and it’s a token effort nowhere near loud enough to wake her lover, but it’s loud enough to signal her displeasure to the universe. She shakes the sheets out, a small rain of angular little potato bits showering the carpet.

Her lip curls.

_Oh, you can fucking well clean that up in the morning._

The salt rain stops and she goes to toss the sheets back over the bed and her unassuming partner. The stunning vista of a crunchy moonlit desert spread across the mattress stays her arm.

Erin’s eyes narrow.

_Jesus fucking Christ. How do you even become this messy?_

She’s got the sheets twisted and bundled loosely, gripped in one hand as she swipes at her half of the bed with the other. Ineffectual dragging and patting motions, an agitated display set to a series of little grumbles.

Lifts her head and stops, meets a set of blue eyes dark in the low light and dumb with sleep. Holtz is staring at her, unoccupied arm unfurling towards her.

“Mm-rin?”

Erin softens, resumes her actions slightly more serenely. Holtz watches.

“Wha-whatcha doin’?”

Erin stills mid-pat, waits a moment, sighs it out.

“Crumbs.”

“Oh. M’sorry.”

To her credit, Holtz has the decency to look bashful even while half asleep. It’s cute, exasperatingly so when propped against Erin’s rankled humour.

“It’s… it’s okay. I just… you _know_ how much I hate it, Holtz.”

“I’m sorry, Erin. I didn’t, I didn’t think.”

Erin shakes her head once in irked agreement, drops the sheets and slips back into bed. It’s still a little grainy on her skin and she wrinkles her nose, shifts experimentally and grunts. Resolves to weather it out until morning, the crumbs and the upset both.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

It’s clipped; she knows she’s overreacting, and Holtz’s mouth turns down.

Holtz hums an odd noise, rubs her face and clears her throat softly. Erin waits.

“Mm. I was working in, in my head, and I wanted to be near you but I got hungry and I tried to be careful, Erin, careful because I do _know_ but it just helps me think sometimes... oh, do you remember when I said they’re like little salty parabolas and they’re so cool, do you know how they are made and, and mm, the way they crunch, it’s just once you pop–”

Erin slides a hand to her lover’s trembling lips, presses two fingers to stop the ramble.

“Shhh.”

Holtz mumbles on around the fingers.

“Can’t stop?”

Erin smiles.

Holtz kisses the fingers and it’s sweet and sort-of apologetic and Erin’s smile widens.

“Fun don’t stop?”

Holtz licks the fingers and it tickles.

Erin giggles.

_Oh, Holtz. Do you even know what you do to me?_

She is still mad. Not a bone-eating, seething sort of anger; more like a frustration made less sandpaper-severe by love and adoration.

But she _is_ still mad, just a little bit, so she lies back and lets Holtz love and adore her.

It’s unhurried and a little sloppy with the last spectre of sleep but Holtz presses little kisses into her neck and strokes her gently and she floats away with the sensations. Rides high and crashes like surf on a pebble beach, even though a crispy shard is pressing into the curve between her thigh and her ass, again.

_Oh, Holtz._

Holtz snuggles into her side afterwards and kisses the top of her breast, breathes in and out against the flushed skin.

“Forgive me?”

A tiny laugh bubbles free and Erin pulls their faces close, nipping her lip and nudging her nose and resting their foreheads together.

“Alright. This time.”

They smile in the intimate inch between them.

“Cool.”

They rest side by side for a time, dawn light creeping quick and near. Sleep calls to Erin, and Holtz is resting heavier on her shoulder now, but neither are quite there, yet.

“Holtz?”

“Mm?”

“You know they’re not parabolas, right?”

“What?”

“Pringles. They’re actually hyperbolic paraboloids.”

“Mm. I love it when you talk dirty, E.”

Erin chuckles, once, a little self-deprecatingly.

“I’m sorry. I’m such a dork.”

Holtz leans up, presses a peck to Erin’s cheek.

“My dork. Want one?”

Erin stares at the offered tube.

_Are you fucking serious right now?_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to randomly dedicate this to Still Anon. Don't be too sad :)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://cosmotronic87.tumblr.com/), if you want.


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